Seven

I had just stepped out of Yuhan's gate. I could have waited for a tricycle to take me to the taxi stand in their subdivision, but I chose to walk. I had memorized the streets during our occasional jogging sessions.

I walked aimlessly, replaying the events of the evening in my mind. I couldn't believe what had happened. I didn't know if Yuhan was angry with me, or if he would ever speak to me again. The thought brought fresh tears to my eyes, but I didn't bother to wipe them away, knowing that more would follow. I found my cigarettes in my pocket and lit one immediately. I sat down on the curb, my knees feeling weak.

How did things get so out of hand? I had held back my feelings for so long because I didn't want it to end like this.

I knew he asked me to be his girlfriend, and I was unable to answer because I was in shock. When I asked him to repeat the question, he instead asked me to have sex. Under normal circumstances, I would have taken it as a joke and just mocked him, but this was anything but normal. I was incredibly vulnerable whenever Yuhan was involved. When I heard his reply, I snapped. He kissed me before I could become hysterical. It was the sweetest, most passionate, and most meaningful kiss I had ever received from him. That kept me sane, but only for a while. After that, I became irrational, my mind racing with a hundred different thoughts. I decided to be intimate with him one last time, after which I planned to stop seeing him. I needed to create a clean break.

The feeling of knowing that the person you love thinks you're some kind of a slut, someone he can always call whenever he needs a good scratch for his itch, made me go haywire. The pain of thinking that the person you love, the only person you've ever truly loved, sees you that way was unbearable. It wounded my ego deeply, and in response, I gave him exactly what he wanted. I played the role of the slut, I did everything I could to sexually please him. He may not have been vocal, but the hardness of his arousal told me he was highly satisfied. As I was about to leave, he asked me if I wanted to be his girlfriend. I chose not to answer, afraid I would say something I'd regret. But ironically, his second question made me regret not answering his first. He asked me if I was even capable of loving. That question hit me like a physical blow, a sharp, stinging pain that left me reeling.

I didn't know what he was trying to imply with that question. I felt deeply insulted, profoundly hurt. Pride took over, and I leaned into the role of the 'slut' he seemed to see me as. I gave him a cold, hard 'no' for an answer.

I burst into tears as I replayed the events of the night in my mind. I wanted to blame him for everything that had happened, but I knew that would be wrong. I was the one who made the decisions, the one who chose to walk away. I chose to convey to him that we couldn't be together, that I was incapable of love. I had waited so long for Yuhan to ask me that question, but when the moment finally arrived, I chose to reject him. I was afraid that if we became a couple, we wouldn't last, that he would find someone more attractive, someone more suitable for him. I was afraid he would get tired of me, that I wouldn't be able to fulfill his expectations as a girlfriend. I was afraid that he would realize I wasn't the person he needed, that I wasn't the one he truly loved.

I rejected him because of my insecurities. I rejected him because I didn't want to lose him as a friend, but it seemed my rejection was in vain, because I didn't know if anything remained of what we once had. The fear of losing him as a friend, and then as a partner was a weight that I could not handle. I was terrified of the future. I had built up so much fear that it overrode any chance of happiness. I was so scared, that I chose to destroy any chance of us being together.

I forced myself to stand and continue walking, wanting to get home to Bulacan, or my apartment in Valenzuela at least. And, as if the universe was conspiring against me, it suddenly started to drizzle. I had nowhere to take shelter, so I quickened my pace, knowing I was still far from the taxi stand. Minutes later, the rain was pouring down. I became even more frustrated and slumped down on the side of the road again.

I didn't want to do anything; it felt like the rain was urging me to just cry. I buried my head in my knees and let all my tears flow. I cried like a child, weeping for the anger at the first man I had ever loved, the frustration with myself for not being able to tell him how I truly felt, the pain of being questioned about my capacity to love, the anger at my complicated life, and the hopelessness of ever being happy with Yuhan. The rain washed over me, a cold, relentless torrent that mirrored the turmoil within me. Each drop felt like a tiny pinprick, a reminder of my broken heart, my shattered dreams. The darkness of the night, amplified by the storm, seemed to swallow me whole, leaving me adrift in a sea of despair. I felt utterly alone, abandoned by the world, lost in the labyrinth of my own emotions. The sobs racked my body, each one a raw expression of the pain that consumed me. The rain, the tears, the darkness – it was a symphony of sorrow, a testament to the depth of my heartbreak. I was alone, vulnerable, and completely broken.

I remained slumped on the curb, crying for what felt like an eternity. I didn't care about the pouring rain or if anyone saw me; I just wanted to release all the pent-up emotions I had been holding back for so long. The tears were a torrent, a release of the pain that had been building within me, a cathartic flood that washed away years of suppressed feelings.

Suddenly, I noticed a figure standing in front of me, and the rain stopped falling directly on my head. I looked up, my vision blurred by tears, and heard a familiar baritone voice.

"Bathing in the rain won't win you the best actress award at the Oscars," the voice said, a hint of wry amusement in its tone. That familiar voice snapped me out of my daze. I raised my head, wiping away the tears that obscured my vision, to see who was standing before me. And then, I saw the guy I least expected to see. It was him.